The same feeling of the necessity of the Presidency of Bengal providing for its own security, led Clive at this period to express to the Select Committee at Fort William his pointed disapprobation of their delays in repairing their fortifications.
"I cannot conclude," he observes in a letter[204] written the day he left Patna, "without representing to you, gentlemen, in the strongest terms, the great stake the Company have in Bengal, and how much that stake is exposed for want of a fortification. It gives me concern, beyond what I can express, to hear from all hands that the works go on very slowly. At a time like this, no private workmen should be allowed, but all employed for the public service; and if the want of hands arise only from the want of a few pice[205] more, I think such a saving does not merit one moment's consideration, or that such economy can meet with the Company's approbation at this juncture. Be assured, gentlemen, if Calcutta be left defenceless through any neglect of ours, and should fall into the hands of our enemies a second time, we shall entail upon ourselves a censure never to be effaced."
Clive obtained, before he quitted Patna, a monopoly of the saltpetre of that province for the Company. This grant was, in every respect, very advantageous to the English; and no less so to the Nabob, who received as much revenue, and more certain payment, than he had done before. The officers of Meer Jaffier were, however, discontented with an arrangement by which they lost the bribes and presents which they formerly received from the contractors for that article. After this and other matters were settled, Clive proceeded to Moorshedabad, accompanied by Roy Dullub, with whom he had to adjust many points connected with the full performance of the treaty.
The object of Clive, throughout this short expedition to Patna, was to reconcile, as far as he could, the jarring interests which distracted the court of Meer Jaffier, and threatened to disturb the peace of the country. His honour, and the public interests, strongly attached him to the Nabob; though, at the same time, it was not only politic, but indispensably necessary, to keep the power of that prince within limits. He felt himself especially bound to protect Roy Dullub from the enemies by whom he was threatened. That minister, it will be recollected, was one of the chief instruments in effecting the revolution; and had subsequently received, both from Clive and Meer Jaffier, the fullest assurances of safety to his life and property.
Clive, on the expedition to Patna, and on all other occasions, communicated with Meer Jaffier upon every subject. He often visited him; and giving scope to the natural bent of his temper, entered into his amusements. But it was impossible to reconcile that prince to his condition; which was more humiliating from the circumstance of his presenting to his countrymen the first instance, in Bengal, of the power of a proud Mahommedan sovereign being overshadowed by that of a body of merchants, who, before this great change, had never appeared at the court of his predecessors but as humble supplicants endeavouring to obtain commercial privileges. Many of the nobles and generals by whom the Nabob was surrounded had been, a year or two before, courted by bribes and flattery to protect the persons, or to promote the trade, of the very English agents on whose pleasure or policy their fortune and character now depended. To add to the strong and rankling feelings which such a change must have excited, the Mahommedan prince and his chiefs found themselves deserted by the wary and pliant Hindus, who, possessing greater foresight, and expecting security and advancement from the change of masters, were ready, on the first alarm of danger to their life or property, to seek the protection of the English. This the latter were in many cases under the necessity of granting; for, from the first, they had not intrinsic strength which could enable them to cope with those with whom they were hourly exposed to come in collision. They could not have remained in Bengal without the means of self-defence; they could not repel or retaliate an attack without counteracting and defeating their enemies; they could not retreat without ruin, from the ground to which their successes had advanced them; and they could only maintain themselves by forming and improving their connections in the country. Though the cultivation and support of the ties, which this course led them to establish, created divisions among those whose union would have been their destruction, it had at the same time the evil of cherishing feuds, rebellions, and revolutions. Supposing those who had lost all but the name of authority by our progress had been so well satisfied of our decided superiority as to become patient wearers of the degraded trappings of state, could they have reconciled their proud followers to obedience and submission to those whom they deemed foreign upstarts, and whose power became every day more galling from the abuses committed by the meanest of the natives[206] of India employed in their service, or guarded by their protection?
It is not meant, by these observations, to question the necessity which compelled our advance to power in Bengal. There was no alternative between its attainment and abandoning that country altogether; but while we do justice to ourselves, we should not be unjust to those who opposed us by intrigue or in battle. We should, at all events, judge them according to their habits, their knowledge, and the feelings and opinions of the community to which they belonged. Alarm for their lives, hatred and distrust of each other, or the lust of power, might make them confederate with us for the purpose of the moment. To this they might also be induced by that arrogant confidence, which is ever the concomitant of ignorance. They might hope to direct or command those with whom they had combined to destroy their enemies. But when this dream of self-delusion was dispelled, when they found that they themselves had been made the instruments of subverting the dominion of the race to which they belonged, and that their power was now controlled by the very persons by whom it had been so recently established,—it became natural for them, and for all whose fame and fortune were associated with them, to seek, through every means, emancipation from such humiliating thraldom. I have expressed my sentiments very strongly upon this subject, and may be condemned by those who, alike regardless of usage and of feeling, are guided in their judgment of every public and private act by partial principles, and by a local and limited scale of moral rectitude; but I shall appeal from such a decision to all who, true to the feelings and affections which are implanted in every breast, cherish attachment to their family, their tribe, and their country. I ask of these, what would have been their conduct, if placed in the depressed and degraded condition of Meer Jaffier, his kindred, his nobles, and their followers?
Clive was fully sensible of the character of the motives by which the latter were influenced. He saw and felt for their condition, and imputed their intrigues and conspiracies, less to their personal characters than to the general causes to which I have alluded. He did not, therefore, expect any sudden change in their sentiments; but he tried, by every act in his power, to render that control which it was necessary to exercise less irksome. His conduct, however, had often the effect of lowering those he desired to exalt; for it brought his actions into strong contrast with the weak machinations of men, who could neither conceal their jealousy of his power, nor their own inability to cope with his superior mind.